<a href="https://www.pexels.com/photo/sea-animal-dog-zoo-23087/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Source</a>
If you whistle, Scotland has them
dark by the seas’ rim:
bull-seals and females,
unhurried by the rush and reach
of tides that have touched into foam (with pails
and white ponds) the vast seas’ eddying reaches.
We, by the beaches and boles of the bounded earth,
sing softly, and see their black heads’
shining and lining, the white-horses’ waving waves
of them.
From under the sea-beds
and tusks of rock, we have reached,
by a whistle, the mackerel-hunters,
creatures mysteriously still.
We silence ourselves, listening,
watching their dark-shaped
glistening, and going down
at will.
(from “The Light Of Day” – previously unpublished poems – to be published later this year)